“You won’t get up,” the telepath said. “And you won’t give me any more problems.”
Warren rubbed the back of his head. He was still disoriented, but he wasn’t angry. He knew exactly what a man like this was after.
“Your name,” Warren said.
“Dietrich Werner. Pleased to meet you. And yours?”
“Just call me War.”
Dietrich nodded. “I can do that.”
Warren pushed himself up, trying to keep his body from wobbling. He had hit his head hard, but his mind had never been clearer in his life.
Dietrich stared at him with those ment eyes. “You take it easy now, War. Despite your scary name, this wouldn’t be a fair fight. I know a hundred ways to hurt you.”
“Ain’t necessary,” Warren said. “We’re gonna be partners. I want enough money to build myself a small army, then we’re going to raid a town in the mountains, you and me.”
Dietrich frowned, but only the slightest bit. He was obviously trying to hide his curiosity.
“You said you had information. Now you’re demanding an army. What are you playing at?”
Warren smiled. “I have something you want. Something your boss has been searching for going on thirteen, fourteen years now, I think?”
Dietrich’s eyes widened.
“Maybe I will join you, War,” he said, signaling for the bartender. “Bring this man as much whiskey as he wants, and put it on my tab.”
Chapter 29
The knock came half an hour after he’d left Arielle at her front door. Michael was surprised to see her slip into his darkened bedroom.
“I thought you were going to bed,” he said, squinting at her in the dark.
“Shh…”
He caught sight of her blonde hair in the moonlight streaming through the window. She’d gathered it into a loose bun, wisps of hair hanging in her face. Her legs were bare.
“Can I sleep next to you for a while?” she said. “Sorry, it’s just that Charlotte and I got into an argument, and I didn’t feel like sticking around.”
“Sure,” Michael said, his voice cracking a bit. “No problem.”
He flipped back the covers to let her in. Her clothes looked different. She hadn’t been wearing shorts before.
“Did you change?” he asked as she slipped in and filled the bed with her heat. She was sweating lightly, as if she had just jogged over.
“Mm-hmm. I thought these would be easier to take off.”
Arielle raised her knees above her belly, then slipped off her shorts and tossed them across the room. Michael’s fingers brushed the soft warmth of her cotton underwear.
He said nothing as his mind buzzed with half-formed questions. What was she… Why the sudden change…
“Arielle,” he said, whispering against her cheek. “What are you doing? You told me you weren’t ready—”
She put her finger to his lips to silence him. “It doesn’t matter what I said. I love you, Michael. And you love me. That’s enough, isn’t it?”
As they kissed, her hand groped him beneath the covers.
Michael gave in to her advances, noticing her lips tasted saltier than before. Her hair smelled different, too. She had scented it, perhaps, maybe so he would find her more appealing? No, that couldn’t be right. Arielle knew he hated the smell of perfume, scarce and valuable as the substance was in these parts.
He pushed her away and blinked, trying to get a clear look at her.
“I’m going to light a candle,” he said.
“No. Don’t. I want to do it in the dark.”
“Ary, what’s wrong? You seem different.”
“Do I?” She curled against him. “This is new to me. Please don’t make me feel like I’m doing it wrong.”
“You’re not. It’s just—”
“Lay back. I see you got a new bed.”
“What?”
“Never mind.”
Afterward, Michael would remember these words, and he would ask himself how he could have been so stupid. It was true he’d built another bed after the incident with Charlotte, when Eli had heard the creaking of the springs before storming in on them. Michael had decided he’d rather not have a squeaky cot if he could avoid it.
But tonight had been like something out of a dream. Michael wanted Arielle so badly he’d almost had no choice. His mind had fogged, his thoughts had blurred—sex with her seemed to be the only reason he was in Gulch to begin with, his mission in life. It became, in that moment, his entire reason for existing.
It had started innocently enough. He remembered they’d kissed for a while. Then he recalled Arielle’s fumbling, girlish movements as she slid one leg over his waist and straddled him. Sitting upright, her hair spilling over her shoulders, Arielle’s beauty became a force that held him in thrall, pinning him to the bed so he couldn’t move.
“Do you want me?” she asked.
“Yes.” The word was almost a gasp. “Yes, I want you.”
She raised both arms, her hands lifting the edges of her T-shirt, revealing naked breasts he could barely see in the darkness. When she moved, glints of moonlight illuminated her curves. Michael pressed his cold palms against her hard nipples. Tipping her head back, she shivered.
Then, the sensation of being inside her—the warmth, the sudden rush of being enveloped in such a way. Michael had pushed into a sitting position, Arielle still facing him as she straddled him, rocking against his hips as though it pained her to be still.
And then Michael saw it—a tiny shape in the moonlight. He didn’t think much about it, but when Arielle caught him staring at it, she became uncomfortable and pushed him away.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Take me from behind.”
She’d gotten on the mattress on her hands and knees. Michael had fumbled to enter her, then thrust his body against hers until he finished, already forgetting about the birthmark on her belly, the one with the weird shape that reminded him of an archipelago.
When it was over, she lay on her back, knees pressed together. She was quietly giggling, sounding almost mischievous.
Michael breathed hard, confusion and dread beginning to swirl sickeningly inside his stomach. “What’s so…funny?” he asked.
“This,” she said.
When Michael blinked, Arielle was suddenly gone.
Incredible, Michael thought.
Arielle hadn’t disappeared—not exactly. She’d transformed in front of his eyes, a change so quick it had startled him, though it happened in increments he was able to witness. Her blonde hair thickened. It became a deep brown, almost black in the low light. Her cheeks became fuller as her breasts and belly took on a weight and heft that had not been there before. Gone were Arielle’s soft blue eyes—in their place, a pair of dark ones flashed with insane glee.
“You’re mine,” Charlotte said.
She slipped off the bed and stood watching him, her thighs clenched tightly together, head slightly tilted as if in appraisal of a job only halfway complete.
“Get out,” Michael said, horrified at what she’d done—what he’d done. He scrambled to put his underwear back on. “This doesn’t change anything. You…you tricked me.”
“Oh, yeah? Do you even know what they do to rapists in this town?”
A cold shudder passed through Michael. He froze in the midst of pulling up his underclothes. “Rape? I didn’t rape you.”
“Oh, really? I have proof you were inside me. The rest of what happened—well, it’s my word against yours, I guess.”
Michael leaped off the bed. He grabbed her shoulders, not sure what he intended to do. Charlotte fell away from him, hitting the wall with a hollow boom. His gut clenched when he realized he’d handed her the opportunity she’d wanted. Opening her mouth, she let out the most ear-piercing shriek he had ever heard. The sound was entangled with something else—a subtle frequency he was sure everyone in town could hear.
He clutched his ears.
S
top it, Charlotte.
His telepathy was no use. She jumbled it, the moment too chaotic for him to get a grasp on his power.
Mind short-circuiting, he reached for her, his fingers bent into claws, his brain harboring no rational thought other than the desperate need to stop the noise before the entire town woke up, before someone came in here, catching him naked and lunging at her like he wanted to strangle her.
He didn’t get far. Someone tackled him to the floor. At the same time, the screeching finally stopped.
“Get her away from me,” Michael shouted, struggling as someone much larger encased him in a powerful grip. Eli’s face came into view. Behind him, Peter and Ian stood in the doorway, their mouths open in shock.
“Calm down, Mike.” Eli spoke in a harsh, admonishing whisper. “You two almost woke up the town.”
Behind him, Ian helped Charlotte up and inspected her face. He shot Michael a look of utter confusion.
“Did you hit her?” he asked.
Michael pushed Eli away, trying to regain his breath.
Charlotte sobbed loudly. “I don’t remember what happened—only going to sleep. W-when I woke up, I was here, and… Oh God, what did he do to me?”
Eli began handing over her clothes. Ian helped, throwing Michael suspicious glances. He seemed to be questioning the entire scene, as if he couldn’t believe his eyes.
When Charlotte was dressed, she marched over to where Michael leaned against the bed, shock still thrumming wildly through him.
“We’ll see what the town thinks of this,” she spat.
Then she strode heatedly out of the room.
Michael’s legs gave out, and he collapsed heavily on the mattress “What did you do?” Eli said, dropping to one knee so he could search Michael’s face. “Talk to me, brother. What did you do?”
Michael was too stunned to utter anything as a single word echoed inside his mind.
Rape.
In Gulch, it was a crime punishable by death.
Chapter 30
In Midas Ford’s office, Michael explained the situation, recounting everything slowly so he could be sure not to leave out any crucial details. Ian immediately came to Michael’s defense.
“Charlotte used a chameleon effect,” Ian said, his outrage obvious. “I know because she used it on me a bunch of times. Practiced on me, I should say, and now I know why. She can turn herself into any woman imaginable, then keep the charade going as long as she wants. Redhead or blonde, black or white, curvy or skinny—you have to believe us. She’s the one guilty of rape, not him.”
“It’s true,” Michael said. “I didn’t have a clue it was her.”
Midas leaned forward in his chair, frowning as he studied them. To his right, Dominic stood with his arms crossed, eyes distant as he seemed to mull over the possibility of Charlotte pulling off such a stunt. To Midas’s left, Louis Blake paced around the room, shaking his head as he listened. Peter, Eli, and Ian looked on, side by side on the sofa across the room.
“She has a birthmark that never changes,” Ian offered after a minute. “I don’t know if that helps.”
“I saw it,” Michael said. “It looks like an island, or maybe a piece of land, curved, that sticks out into the sea…”
“An archipelago,” Ian said. “That’s what it’s called.”
Blake froze, studying the boys to see if they might be joking.
“Where is this birthmark?” he asked.
Michael and Ian glanced at each other. After a quick shrug, Ian took the lead and pointed at a spot about six inches to the left of his navel. Blake’s eyes widened, stunned into silence.
“What do you think it means?” Michael asked.
“Nothing. It’s… it’s nothing. Michael, you swear you didn’t force her?”
“I swear it.”
Midas got to his feet with a grunt of exertion, clearly exhausted under the weight of this unexpected ordeal. “Right about now, word’s getting out that you raped her. The town’s going to be up in arms. Knowing about some birthmark ain’t going to save you. It means nothing in the long run, anyway—so what if she has a birthmark? Any story you boys come up with, they’ll only say you conspired to make it up.”
“But you believe me, don’t you?” Michael asked almost pleadingly.
“Mike, don’t put me on the spot like that. I’m here to help you, boy. Now, I’m going to run a test. It’s what’s expected of me when something like this happens. And if that test points its finger at you, I’m going to have a tough time convincing the other townsfolk you didn’t use telepathy to pull the wool over her eyes.”
Michael’s face fell. “Even though she pulled the wool over my eyes,” he muttered glumly.
“I don’t know how that’s even possible,” Midas said, then raised an eyebrow at Blake. “You ever heard of a telepath creating an illusion like that, Louis? You think she’s clever enough to fashion such an experience?”
Blake remained frozen, his mouth slightly agape. The look in his eyes was so distant his mind might have been on a completely different planet.
“Louis?” Midas asked. “Louis, what’s wrong?”
Blake returned to reality in a sudden fit of blinking. “It’s nothing, just thinking back… Yes, it’s possible. Anything’s possible.”
“The test to show I was with her will come out positive,” Michael said, dropping his head into his hands in defeat. “I’m screwed.”
“Take it from the top again,” Midas said. “Don’t leave out any details. You went back to your room after watching the stars with Arielle…”
Once more, Michael recounted the story from the beginning. When he explained the part about the birthmark, Ian supported him by recounting his own sexual trysts with Charlotte. They spoke in painstaking detail, like witnesses on the stand in a courtroom. Michael observed Blake’s reaction throughout, unnerved by the man’s oddly thoughtful expression. Had the birthmark revelation triggered some kind of memory? Had Blake seen that mark before?
Finally, Blake spoke.
“Midas and I need to converse alone,” he announced. “Boys, go back to the house and wait for further notice from us, okay?”
When word got out about what had happened—including Charlotte’s chameleon effect, which many people declared impossible—the town split into two opposing sides. There were those—men, mostly—who sided with Michael. “Don’t tell me that girl got raped again,” they said. “Seems like it’s becoming a habit, wouldn’t ya say?”
The other half—mostly women—refused to believe Charlotte could have tricked him. “He’s a Type I,” they said, “and you’re telling us that Charlotte used telepathy to make herself look like her sister? Are you crazy? I’ll tell you what happened—Arielle rejected him, and he was so overcome with lust that he used his ability to turn Charlotte into a sex puppet. He might as well have drugged the poor girl.”
A considerable amount—mainly those tired of all the violence and conflict—supported a town-wide witch hunt.
“I think we should get rid of all them ments,” they said. “Things were better back when Meacham was mayor. He knew how to keep Louis Blake and his boys on a tight leash. There’s even rumors we’ve got slavers and People’s Republic men searching for us. This town’s going to hell, and it’s that Michael boy’s fault.”
On the other hand, Louis Blake and Midas Ford formed their own opinions.
“Two teenagers playing games with each other,” Blake said. Inside the mayor’s office, he dropped into the loveseat after the boys left him alone with Midas. “Nothing more.”
Midas Ford obviously didn’t feel comfortable taking sides. Since becoming mayor, he’d become a lot less bold with his opinions. No surprise there. Some men just didn’t mix well with power, and Blake was certain Midas was one of those men.
“Listen to yourself,” Midas said. “That boy is the most powerful telepath we’ve ever seen. And you think Charlotte was able to do what, exactly? Convince him she was a blonde abou
t twenty pounds lighter with a completely different voice? You think Michael didn’t know what was happening?”
“Even if he did know it was Charlotte, that doesn’t make it rape. She came into his bedroom.”
“But take the long view here, Louis. Michael can turn people into puppets. Imagine what it must be like to have that kind of power. And a teenage boy with all those hormones coursin’ through his body—hell, he might even be manipulating Ian Meacham into defending him.”
“You think Ian’s lying?”
Midas sighed. “That’s not what I’m saying. I’m mayor now, Louis, whether I like it or not. These are things I have to take into consideration. I like that boy every bit as much as you do, but he’s become too powerful for a place like this. I’m not saying we outcast him, but I think it’s time he moved on. You need to summon your contacts in the NDR to tell ‘em they got a new recruit coming.”
Blake shook his head. “He needs to prove himself first. To them.”
“And how do you propose he do that?”
“I don’t know. But we’ll figure something out. Right now, I’m more concerned about another matter.”
“That birthmark,” Midas said. “Your entire composure changed when the boy mentioned it.”
“That’s because I’ve seen it before,” Blake said, “but not on Charlotte.”
“On who, then?”
“If my hunch is right,” Blake said, “then the other person was her father, Harris Kole.”
Chapter 31
Back home, Blake dug out the satellite phone and called Sam Weisman. The man answered on the tenth ring.
“Twice in one year,” Weisman said. “It’s like we’re becoming best friends or something.”
“Always knew you enjoyed these calls,” Blake said.
“Of course. Good to know you’re still alive. What can I do for ya?”
“I need information, the kind only a man of your…stature can access.”
Bloodcrier: The Complete Two-Book Series Page 39